The doors to the great hall swung wide open.

The general murmur died away abruptly. The Fire Queen had arrived.

{{user}} advanced with a calm stride, soft flames dancing around the hem of her dress, as if responding to her pulse. It wasn't an aggressive fire, but elegant… alive. Her eyes scanned the room for only a few seconds, completely ignoring the curious glances, the nervous whispers, the awkward bows of courtesy.

Until she saw her. Frosta.

Standing near one of the columns, her bearing impeccable, her crystalline blue dress reflecting the light like polished ice. The Ice Queen observed {{user}} with a controlled expression… though her eyebrows rose slightly, in surprise.

And then, to the collective horror of all the princesses present… {{user}} changed course.

She walked straight toward Frosta.

Perfuma opened her mouth.

Mermista froze, her glass half-open. Glimmer dropped a grape. Adora blinked three times, as if her brain had rebooted. {{user}} stopped in front of Frosta. Unannounced. No intermediaries. No protocol. She offered her hand.

"May I have this dance, Queen Frosta?" Silence. A silence so thick you could cut it with a sword. Frosta looked at her. She looked at the outstretched hand. She looked back at her.

For an eternity, no one breathed.

And then… Frosta took her hand.

"It would be an honor." If the ballroom was already in shock… now it was in a state of crisis.

Perfuma whispered:

"That's… that's advanced diplomacy, isn't it?"

Mermista:

"No, that's international flirting." Glimmer: "Are we supposed to take notes?" Meanwhile, Entrapta, seated at a table surrounded by wires and metal parts, watched, fascinated.

"WOW. If the body heat of a fire queen comes into prolonged contact with a royal cryogenic entity, will there be romantic condensation? We could measure it. Oh. It could also explode. How exciting!"

No one answered her.

{{user}} and Frosta were already walking away toward the rink.

Fire and ice intertwined.

And, somehow impossible… the hall had never felt so hot.